Casanova Cowboy (A Morgan Mallory Story)

by Loomis, Lisa

  “Come on, let’s sit outside.”

  He took my hand, and I followed him onto the deck and sat next to him on one of the blue-and-white striped couches. They may have been canvas, but the couch was surprisingly soft. I liked the bright yellow and red pillows strewn on them.

  “What a beautiful night,” I sighed, leaning into him.

  “With a beautiful girl,” he said, putting his arm around my shoulder, kissing me again.

  Blake was smooth. He always said and did the right things. The things a girl wanted, I’d watched him with dates he’d brought into the restaurant. I had my doubts about his sincerity, especially since Luke, one of the bartenders at The Chart House, had given me a heads-up about him.

  “So, who are the owners? I feel like I’m intruding in someone else’s space,” I said adjusting myself against his shoulder.

  “Stop worrying. He’s a rich businessman from New Orleans. I’ll be leaving in two weeks to take the boat to meet him and his family in the Bahamas. They love San Diego so their slip is here, but I take the yacht wherever he tells me. They’re like family. When they’re on the boat, I live in the crew quarters. When they aren’t, he’s told me to enjoy it, so I do,” Blake said with a grin.

  I relaxed, knowing the owners were not close by and simply enjoyed the stories Blake told me about being a captain. How he’d gotten into it in New Zealand and had ended up in the States. He’d captained this boat for several years now.

  I was sipping my wine slowly because I still had to drive home. When Blake went to pour himself another glass, he tried to fill mine.

  “Blake, I shouldn’t,” I said, putting my hand over my glass.

  “Yes, you should,” he said, taking my hand and moving it.

  He held my hand as he poured more wine.

  “I have to drive,” I protested.

  “You can stay here for the night, with me, or alone in one of the staterooms. It’s up to you,” he said.

  I loved his accent, how the words just rolled off his tongue sounding foreign and sexy.

  “You probably say that to all the girls,” I teased.

  He smiled. The player reputation had been pinned on him, and I knew it. He knew I knew it too. I could see how he could easily impress a woman with the boat, the accent, the looks, and his charm. More than a couple waitresses around Shelter Island had earned a notch on his bedpost. I wasn’t going to be one of them.

  “Have you ever been serious about a girl?” I asked idly, imagining that he was much like Mathew, serious until the next one came along.

  “Serious, like how serious?” Blake asked.

  “In love? Like you thought she was the one, or could be the one,” I said sitting up straighter looking at him.

  There was a little gleam in his eyes and he smiled, like what I’d asked amused him.

  “I was married once, does that count?” he asked.

  “You were married?” I asked, my jaw dropping. “When?”

  “When I was twenty-one.”

  He picked his glass up off the bamboo table and took a sip.

  “How old are you now?”

  Again he got a look of pleasure. Maybe other girls hadn’t asked him about his past, or love in particular.

  “Twenty-eight. I got married for the wrong reason, though. I tried to convince myself I was in love; she tried to convince me I was in love. But I really think it was for the citizenship. I guess that was always in the back of my mind; I wanted to stay in the States. I was selfish, and I let her talk me into it. She wanted it to be love. It didn’t even last a year, but I’m still married. We’ve never officially filed the divorce papers,” Blake said.

  I smiled. Holy shit, the tangled webs we weave.

  “Do you see her?” I asked.

  “No, haven’t in years. She knows where to find me. If she wants to file the papers, I’ll sign them. Until I need a reason to get it done, there’s no hurry,” he said.

  He was so matter-of-fact about it that it didn’t seem strange. I wondered if she was still in love with him, why she hadn’t pushed for a divorce. It had taken years, but I understood now that relationships came in all sorts of shapes and sizes. Liz and I recently had that conversation about how weird relationships were when she finally ended it with Dave. Since then, we’d been hanging out together: no boys. We had decided to have fun and not worry about being traditional, no looking for love.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked, pulling me back from my thoughts.

  I looked into his face, my eyes roaming over his features: those hazel eyes with a thin gold band at the edge, his chiseled jawline. He had a cleft in his chin, a small indent in the middle—sexy dimples that appeared when he smiled. His dark blond hair was short and neat with streaks of a lighter blond in it from the sun—the captain look. I understood women being completely taken in by him. I knew if I were in a different state of mind, I could be completely taken in.

  “Thinking about relationships,” I said with a sly grin.

  “Does what I said make a difference to you?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. “Not in the least.”

  He pondered this a moment and then pulled me back into his arms.

  “So where are you sleeping?” he asked.

  “I’ll sleep with you, as long as you promise to sleep,” I said.

  He smiled, and I knew he thought he would change my mind. We sat out on the deck until we finished the bottle of wine, and then he led me to the master stateroom.

  “Do you have a T-shirt I can sleep in?” I asked.

  I was still in my cocktail waitress dress.

  “You are going to make me suffer, aren’t you?” he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

  “Blake, I don’t want to make you suffer. I can sleep in another room. Otherwise, if you would like someone to sleep next to you and cuddle, I’m up for that,” I said, pinching his chin, smiling.

  “I’ll get you a T-shirt,” he said, disappointed.

  He pulled a T-shirt out of the dresser and handed it to me. I went into the bathroom to change. The bathroom was so beautiful it was hard to tell I was on a boat. A regular toilet and shower, no smelly head like most of the boats I’d been on. Blake was in the bed when I came out, his bare chest showing, his arms relaxed behind his head.

  “I didn’t think I would find a T-shirt sexy, but I do,” he said, pulling back the covers for me.

  I crawled in next to him. The sheets felt like satin as I ran my hand across them.

  “Nice sheets,” I said.

  “Um, soft anyway.”

  He took me in his arms and kissed me slowly, opening his lips slightly, teasing playfully with his tongue. He smelled and tasted good. I let him explore my body some while we rolled in the sheets. When he moved his hand under my panties, I gently pulled his hand up.

  “Blake,” I said, a warning note in my voice.

  He didn’t try again, and I respected the fact that he hadn’t pushed for more. He woke me the next morning with coffee and orange juice, which we took upstairs out to the deck. We sat in white whicker chairs with puffy yellow cushions out by the stern.

  “This coffee is delicious,” I said.

  “Well, a good view always helps things taste better,” Blake, said.

  “Yes, not too shabby,” I said with a smile.

  The marina didn’t have many people moving around it yet, boats rocked side to side gently in their slips. The only sounds were the rigging on nearby sailboats clanging softly, like wind chimes and the water lapping at the hulls.

  We finished our coffee, enjoying the morning. He offered me a shower, but since I would have to put my work dress back on, I declined. I would shower at home.

  “Can I see you again?” Blake asked.

  I was pleasantly surprised. I thought maybe having said no to him, he wouldn’t be interested in pursuing me.

  “Why not, last night was fun,” I agreed.

  The chase was on I figured; players were generally like that: ch
ase till they get what they want, then game over. I didn’t believe for a minute that I was the one destined to change him.

  Chapter 20

  “Seriously? You slept?” Liz laughed.

  She had a hearty laugh for such a petite girl. Growing up with two older brothers, she was more tomboy than girlie girl—I think it was what sealed our friendship. Men did find us attractive, but Liz and I had gotten comfortable with who we were, neither of us thought of ourselves as all about looks.

  “Yeah, it was good. Good to have a man hold me and not have to have more. I mean he wanted more, but I didn’t want to go there. Shelter Island is a small island in a big city, and everyone seems to know everyone’s business. Same with all the employees at The Chart House, everyone knows who’s sleeping with who. I didn’t want to give him bragging rights; wasn’t so easy, though,” I said with curiosity.

  “Are you going to see him again?” Liz asked.

  “He asked if I would. We’ll see. Maybe he can prove me wrong. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right girl yet,” I teased.

  Liz laughed; she loved my mom, and she’d heard the “you just haven’t found the right one yet” speech too.

  “What time is Ryan supposed to meet us?” she asked as she looked at her watch.

  “I told him seven,” I said, pulling my hair back.

  We were sitting in a booth at the Kraken restaurant across from the beach in Del Mar and halfway into a pitcher of margaritas.

  “You seen much of him lately?” she asked.

  “No. Seems we’ve both been tied up with one thing or another. We talk on the phone pretty often.”

  “Is he liking Southern Cal?” she asked.

  “I think so. He likes the weather for sure. Not working in the snow. He thinks the girls are sort of crazy. You know, lump all us crazy California girls into one. Sounds like he’s getting some of the crazy though and I’m sure he likes that.”

  She laughed. She understood that I was talking about sex. I reached for my margarita glass.

  “Hanging around with us,” she said. “He should be getting his fill of the other kind of crazy.”

  I saw Ryan come through the front door. His skin was tan making his hair seemed blonder. He looked yummy in his light blue collared shirt, jeans, and nice belt. I noticed he had his cowboy boots on, which made me smile. I had teased him on more than one occasion that this was his getting-lucky look. He saw us right away and crossed the bar with a smile.

  “How’s it going, girls?” he said as he greeted us, sliding into the seat on Liz’s side of the booth.

  Grinning, I poured him a margarita and pushed it across the table.

  “Good,” Liz answered moving a little to make room for him. “You look handsome.”

  She angled her body slightly so she could look at him.

  “Thanks,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.

  I could tell Liz’s comment pleased and embarrassed him at the same time. He thought Liz was hot; he’d told me as much.

  “So what’s the plan?” Ryan asked.

  “More of this,” Liz chuckled. “Drinking, having fun.”

  “Some dinner and dancing mixed in with it,” I added.

  His eyes brightened at my comment.

  “Where are you thinking for dinner?” he asked.

  “We could stay here, or we could go across the street to The Chart House and sit in the bar and do appetizers. I get my discount at any Chart House,” I said. “Be cheaper that way. And you know what great views it has on the ocean side…”

  “Let’s do that,” Liz said as she twisted a chunk of her hair. “I love this bar, but you can’t beat the view there.”

  When we finished our drinks, we walked across the street to find that the restaurant wasn’t too busy yet, so the bar was fairly empty, and we were able to order right away. Several waiters I knew from picking up shifts at this Chart House came by our table to say hello and chat—I figured they wanted to meet Liz, and I watched Ryan observe the interaction.

  “Ryan, can we take a walk on the beach after this?” I asked, unsure if that would interest him, since he was dressed to go out.

  “If that’s what you girls want to do,” he shrugged. “I’m up for it.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “Did I tell you I saw Karen and Jackie the other night?”

  I wondered what had made him think about them.

  “No, you didn’t tell me,” I said, surprised. “Where did you run into them?”

  “I didn’t, Karen called. Said a group of people were meeting at El Torito in the bar after their Jazzercise class, and wanted to know if I wanted to meet them. She said there would be several girls, and that I should come,” Ryan said.

  “Did you have fun?” I asked a little miffed she hadn’t called me to join.

  “I had a good time. Lots of foolishness, hard to get a word in with a bunch of pumped-up women. Jackie was really flirty,” he said.

  “I’m sure she was,” I said, envisioning how Jackie could be so brazen.

  “Who’s Jackie again?” Liz asked, curious.

  “Karen’s younger sister,” Ryan and I said at the same time.

  I smiled at him noting how the blue of his shirt intensified the color of his eyes.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ve met her a couple times I think,” Liz said with a question.

  “You’ve met her,” I said grimacing. “Jackie’s cute, loves to flirt, even more than Karen. She stopped by Mom’s that day you and I were tanning.”

  “Oh right, brunette,” she said with a smirk.

  When we got outside to the beach, the moon was full in the sky illuminating the waves, the foam riding up onto the sand in the darkness. The palm trees outside of Jake’s and The Chart House moved gently in the breeze. Liz and I pulled off our sandals as we scurried out into the sand.

  “Oh, perfect temperature,” Liz said with a twirl.

  Ryan sat down on a low sea wall and took off his boots and socks and rolled up his jeans. He followed Liz and I holding his boots as we acted like little girls and ran down into the ocean, letting the waves splash up to our knees. Ryan walked cautiously down to where we played and safely stayed on dry sand, watching us.

  “Come on, Ryan,” Liz called.

  “Not a chance,” he said with a grin. “I know you two, and I don’t trust either of you when you’re on a tear, getting wild and crazy.”

  Liz and I played with the surf challenging it to get us. I did several cartwheels and Liz laughed joining me. Ryan seemed entertained as he followed along keeping his distance from the ocean as if we might get him wet.

  “Okay, I’m ready to go dancing,” Liz said after we’d walked a long way.

  “Me too,” I said playfully taking Ryan’s hand as the three of us turned back.

  “I don’t really want to drive,” Liz said.

  “Why don’t we drop your car off at your place, I don’t mind driving,” Ryan suggested. “I can drop you both back later.”

  “Oh, Ryan, I love you,” Liz crooned.

  We went to the Belly Up Tavern, and it was crowded with a line at the door. A high school friend of Max’s was the bouncer so I worked my way up to the front.

  “Flip,” I said loudly over the music spilling out the door. “Can you get three of us in?”

  “Sure,” he said with a smile pulling back the rope.

  “Thank you so much,” I said.

  We made our way through the crowd towards the bar. Liz shouted that it was her turn to buy and wiggled in between people to order. She got the bartender’s attention easily.

  “Morgan,” Liz called as she held a drink out to me.

  Since there was no table open, we stood next to a thin rail that ran along a side wall.

  Tom Petty’s “American Girl” burst out of the speakers with “Well she was an American girl, raised on promises”.

  “Come on,” I shouted, pulling Liz and Ryan towards the dance floor.

  Ryan came willingly. It felt so na
tural, the three of us dancing together and we stayed until one thirty in the morning.

  “That was too fun,” Liz said wiping the sweat from her brow as we walked out into the cool night air. “Did you see that one meat head that asked me to dance?”

  “What do you mean one, there were several. They knew Ryan had two pretty girls, were no doubt jealous,” I teased hooking my arm through Ryan’s.

  “I’m guessing so,” Ryan grinned.

  The dancing worked off most of the booze, so we were all fairly sober when Ryan dropped us off.

  “Do you want to come in?” I asked, hoping he would keep the party going.

  “No, I gotta get home. Get the dog out,” he said.

  I was disappointed, but understood. I leaned over and kissed him quickly on the lips. The dog had come with him from Park City, a cast off that roommates of his hadn’t wanted to keep, a big black lab.

  “Thanks. Thanks for going with us,” I said softly.

  Chapter 21

  That summer Liz and I spent most of our time between her place and Del Mar Beach. With school being out, I had the free time, and I wanted to be at the beach. I dated Captain Blake several more times. Yeah, I slept with him again—without sex—and could tell that without that essential element, he wasn’t much interested. I couldn’t blame him. But I had no intention of being that easy, and the butterflies just weren’t happening. He never went out of his way to see me between several trips he captained in that time, nor did he keep in touch except to pop in unannounced to The Chart House. If he wasn’t going to start out trying—and trying hard—I wasn’t interested.

  I ran into a friend of Max’s younger brother at the beach one day. Trevor was smoking hot, but he was shy. Unlike Blake, I pursued Trevor, but I was only looking for one thing with him. The first time I went to his place, we watched Mad Max with Mel Gibson and then had sex the rest of the afternoon. Our hook-ups were just that: sex and more sex. Really hot, steamy sex, but that was the depth of it.

  Liz and I packed a cooler with beer one sunny day and drove down to the beach close to Torrey Pines, farther away from the crowds.

  “Some days it’s just too crowded at Del Mar,” Liz said as we spread our towels out in the sun below the cliffs.